Epic Retold: The Mahabharata in Tweets (18 page)

That night, Draupadi comes to me after the palace falls asleep. Soft footsteps betray her approach.

‘Did you mean what you said about Keechaka?’ she asks, sitting beside me on the narrow cot. ‘Or were those empty words?’

A sob escapes Draupadi. She says, ‘I cannot forget how the righteous gambler just walked away!’’

Gently, I take her cracked palms in mine. Then, in hushed tones, I begin to outline my plan.

‘You must find a moment alone with Keechaka tomorrow,’ I say. ‘Smile, invite him to the dance hall.’

Draupadi stiffens beside me. Then, understanding what I have in mind, she relaxes.

‘Yes, the dance hall is a good place,’ she says. ‘Empty after sunset. If there is noise, nobody will hear it.’

She continues, ‘I will tell Keechaka I resisted only because of my husband. That I can only meet him in secret!’

I marvel at Draupadi’s cleverness. Together, in the dark of that grim night, we plan the details of Keechaka’s end.

I am uncharacteristically busy in the kitchen the next morning. The chief cook is away, having entrusted his duties to me.

It is only late in the afternoon that I manage to catch sight of Draupadi. She is with the other maids, filling flower baskets in the garden.

The smile she turns in my direction speaks clearly: Keechaka will seek her tonight.

I pass through the palace gates. Walking quickly along its dusty main street, I cross the clutch of buildings that form the Matsya capital.

A little beyond, to the south, past several isolated houses, is the forest we came through. Our weapons are stored here.

Making sure no cowherds are around, I climb a nondescript banyan tree. High up, I check the packages I had tied to a sturdy branch.

I pick up my iron mace. Mayan’s gift. The deerskin I wrapped it in is still intact. Reluctantly, I replace it.

One by one I check my other packets, just to be sure. The long bow Mayan had custom-made for me, the heavy sword, my spear, all are safe.

My hand rests long on the hunting knife that has served me for twelve years.

No. I will not need it tonight. Animal though he is, Keechaka must die differently. Without blood-spill. Under my bare hands.

My brothers had left their own swords and bows in similar fashion nearby. I am relieved to see their weapons are also undisturbed.

The evening meal is almost ready by the time I return. Entrusting my assistants with the last few tasks, I proceed towards the dance hall.

The hall is in the adjoining palace, where Virata’s daughters live. It is here that Brihannala the eunuch teaches dance and music.

Arjuna shrouded in silks all day. I smile grimly. What a way for a swashbuckling warrior!

The hall is deserted when I push open the door. I walk in. Lighting a wick, I take a look around.

At the far end is a divan, spread with several luxurious cushions. This must be where Arjuna sits as he presides over his young disciples.

This will do. Blowing out the wick, I settle down on the divan. I am calm.

Removing the long piece of cloth tied around my waist, I begin to tear it into strips. Then, carefully, I bandage my arms and forearms.

When Keechaka’s body is discovered, there must be no telltale marks on me. I cover my neck and face as well for good measure.

My hands search out the vial Draupadi has left beneath the cushions. Liberally, I apply the perfume. Nothing must be left to chance.

Then I wait.

Hours pass like ages. Surely, even the king must have retired by now after his nightly wagers?

Just as I begin to worry Keechaka has not taken the bait, I see movement by the window. A lone figure arrives, hugging the shadows.

The door opens. The figure begins to advance slowly. Quietly I sit up.

‘Malini?’ Keechaka’s voice is a whisper.

The divan creaks when I move. Keechaka hesitates. Now I can see the glitter of his earrings. Huddling, I try to make myself smaller.

The smell of musk mingled with wine assaults me as he comes closer. Keechaka has made an effort to be attractive! I smile mirthlessly.

‘I feared you wouldn’t be here,’ he says, reaching out a hand.

Keechaka realizes the danger when I grab his wrist and pull him towards me. He tries to break my hold. But I have surprise on my side.

Throwing him on to the divan, I use my body to pin him down. His free hand claws at my face and throat. I am glad for the bandages.

Keechaka struggles furiously when I cover his face with a cushion. He is strong, but compared to Jarasandha, he is nothing.

I hold him down with ease. When I press down harder, smothering him, he attacks my hands. Muffled shouts emerge from under.

‘I am the army chief! Who are you? Let go!’

‘I am the husband of the maid you tried to dishonour,’ I whisper.

The words must have reminded Keechaka of Malini’s trickery. There is a sudden fury in his struggles that I contain only with difficulty.

After a few moments, he weakens. But I do not ease the pressure. Keeping my face away from his reach, I push harder to deny him breath.

Gradually, the thrashings cease. Keechaka lies still.

I light the lamp and look at Keechaka. His eyes are wide open. In death he looks even more repulsive.

Gentle footsteps. Draupadi.

‘Is he dead?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I promised.’

Taking the lamp from my hand, she turns up the wick and looks at the fallen Keechaka. The eyes that turn to me are content.

‘You are hurt,’ she says, stepping close to wipe a trickle of blood from my chest.

‘A scratch,’ I say. ‘No one will see.’

In the light of the lamp, I see her lips part. Her hand encircles my neck, nails digging deep.

No. I stay her and gently disentangle.

Draupadi says, ‘Oh, the woman from the forest is still in your thoughts!’

She walks away quickly. I struggle to read the look on her face. Is that gratitude? Or pity?

THE CATTLE THIEVES

EPISODE 26

TWEETS 76

Thundering hooves kick up a dust storm. I survey it from afar, the Matsya flag atop my chariot fluttering in the noon breeze.

In the next chariot is King Virata. Yudhistira stands with him. Behind us, a small force, some fifty soldiers in all.

This is our response to the sudden threat on Matsya’s northern border. Most soldiers were away from the garrison when the raid occurred.

When a villager reported a group making off with cattle from one of Virata’s grazing fields, the king was livid.

‘Trigartha again!’ he said to Kangan. ‘Send our forces immediately!’

This was not the first time Virata’s neighbour was raiding his stock. Only, this time, there was no Keechaka to counter him.

Months had passed since the army chief’s death. He who had gone to bed in one building was found dead in another!

Queen Sudeshna had wept bitterly. Initially, there was talk of Keechaka falling victim to some unknown assassin.

But that talk had died down quickly. Keechaka had wronged many. But he was not an easy man to kill, certainly not without strife.

Aided by Kangan’s well-placed words, it was concluded the army chief met his untimely death at the hands of some unholy spirit.

The maids stopped whispering. Music filled the dance hall again. Virata resumed gambling.

It was then that Trigartha attacked. Who would lead the offensive against him?

A messenger had arrived from Kangan. The king required my presence immediately.

Yudhistira met me outside the royal chamber. Quickly outlining the situation, he said, ‘We are Virata’s guests. It is our duty to help.’

Then, thinking aloud, he added, ‘But we must be careful. This could be an attempt by our enemies to see if Virata has given us asylum.’

Yudhistira’s plan was for us both to accompany the king. We could control the forces through Virata without revealing our involvement.

‘All of this could have been avoided,’ he said, looking at me accusingly. ‘Now we are honour-bound!’

On Yudhistira’s prompt, Virata had asked his bodyguard Veera to line up the soldiers. Ostensibly, Veera would command the attack.

I knew Veera. A strapping man slightly older than I, he often came to the kitchen for extra helpings. He could be trusted.

When I reached the courtyard, Veera had assembled the men. The thought of war enthused me. So long since I held a weapon!

The armourer was dispersing weapons. I tested a few maces. Not one was of merit. I picked out a bow, sword and cowhide shield instead.

Just then, Nakula arrived with four horses. Swiftly harnessing them to a chariot, he said, ‘Handpicked. You will not find them wanting!’

As he helped me struggle into a pair of ill-fitting shoulder plates, I noted the chariot carrying the king and Yudhistira had left.

I ordered my charioteer to follow. ‘No prisoners!’ I heard Veera yell. ‘We do not feed cattle thieves!’

Some of the younger soldiers cheered at that sentiment. They seemed to relish the opportunity to show their skill and valour.

Pastureland sped beneath our wheels. And soon we saw dust rising under the hooves of five thousand cattle.

Now, from my chariot, I can make out Trigartha’s soldiers driving the herd hard. They are trying to get away as quickly as possible.

‘Take some men, ride to the left,’ I tell Veera. ‘Circle, cut them off from behind!’

I ask Yudhistira to do the same on the right. Now that war is upon us, he looks pleased to be part of it.

I speed forward with the remaining men. Seeing us approach, the enemy changes tactics. Quickly they fall into battle positions.

War cries rend the air. As the inexperienced among our soldiers let fly a few arrows, I shout, ‘Too far! Shoot only on my command!’

Closer now, I aim an arrow with eagle feathers at a soldier. It pierces his shoulder. I need to raise my mark by half a finger.

We draw near. I order my men to shoot at will. Soldiers on both sides groan as arrows pierce flesh.

The enemy seems unprepared for a head-on attack. Many jump aside as my charioteer runs straight at them.

When I leap into their midst, my men follow. Ordering one of them to guard my rear, I plough ahead, sword in hand.

Trigartha’s men are in disarray. It occurs to me many are not soldiers, but cowherds carrying weapons. Now, they scatter quickly.

It is then that I see danger.

Trigartha’s men have surrounded King Virata. His chariot has somehow separated from our posse and now stands in a ring of enemy soldiers.

Jumping into my chariot, I turn towards the king. Virata is sitting on the deck, bleeding. The charioteer is dead. Yudhistira has the reins.

As I bring down a soldier trying to clamber on to the king’s chariot, I note Trigartha himself is leading the attack.

I begin by picking out the men near Yudhistira. They had thought they had Virata. Now they fall easy prey to my arrows.

Seeing Veera approach, Trigartha attempts to escape. But the horses Nakula picked out prove more than a match for his.

My driver, whose expertise I have grown to admire as the battle progresses, cuts across his escape route and blocks his vehicle.

I jump into Trigartha’s chariot. Grabbing him by the neck, I throw him to the ground, then jump out after him.

Fear floods his face when I raise my sword.

‘Don’t!’ It is Yudhistira, who has drawn aside. ‘Let him fall at our king’s feet and beg for his life!’

I look at Virata, who nods. Trigartha is only happy to obey.

As we ride back to the capital, Veera draws close. ‘You are no cook, Vallabha!’ he says. ‘Who are you really?’

‘Just a cook,’ I say, ‘with an appetite for war!’

‘No cook shoots arrows that never miss!’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Are you Arjuna?’

No, I tell him. Not Arjuna. But I am flattered.

My delight, however, is short-lived. Bad news awaits us when we get back to the palace.

While we were chasing Trigartha, Duryodhana and his soldiers had come from the west. They had driven away a herd of ten thousand.